Adaption
by BeastFindsBeauty
Summary: Mirrie Ramshead has been imprisoned in cramp, dirty room for over a week. She intends to escape with awful place, but with a clan of mutated savages watching her every move, she might just have to learn to adapt. Lizard/OC. Rating may go up.
1. Realization

**Notes:** Well, this is the first chapter. I tried my best, but I really don't think the editing is up to scratch... And I have no idea how the plot is going to turn out at this stage, so the second chapter may take a while to come out. c: Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hills Have Eyes or any of its characters and themes. But I do own Mirrie Ramshead.

~BeastFindsBeauty

* * *

_It has been days, and my heart is still pounding against my chest. Each pulse ripples its fear through my icy blood, I am almost paralysed. It's not healthy for the human body to be constantly pumped with adrenaline over a long period of time, so I'm surprised (and extremely grateful) I still have my sanity. If it isn't the threat of the crazy, horribly mutated savages that survive in this sweltering heat that drives me insane, it would be the fumes from the hot rotting flesh suspended near the room I've been locked into. Its raw, maggot-filled stench constantly seeps under the door, and makes me dizzy. The past few days are blurry, and my thoughts have run wild. So far, I've narrowed them down a theory that I'm being held as fresh meat for this clan, and each day as I'm thrown some item of preserved junk food, it seems to be the right assumption. I just wonder when they'll burst into the room with their butcher knives and hooks and finally kill me.._

I was lying on the dusty concrete floor, staring blankly up at the ceiling. The paint was a boring grey, peeling heavily in most places. The only window rattled in its frame as a light desert wind picked up outside. The whole set up of this disgusting room was depressing, and as I ravaged the most recent packet of crisps I began to unconsciously form a mental image of my death. Bloody, twisted and detailed. As you can imagine, it didn't make me feel any better. I swallowed the last stale crisp, setting aside the empty bag, and began to sing to pass the time.

I've been living like this for almost eight days. Ever since that frightening struggle a week ago, my mind has gone into a numb state, I refuse to believe this is happening to me. I refuse to accept that I'm trapped in a village of savage cannibals, separated from my best friend, Bernice. I was extremely worried for her, she was also taken, but then most of my feelings slipped under the veil of numbness that covers my mind. I instantly felt better.

Apparently my singing attracted someone's attention, because as I finished the last verse of my favourite song, I heard scampering footsteps stop outside the door. My breath caught in my throat as I instinctively backed into a corner, pressing myself against the grime smeared wall. The door clicked and opened slowly, and I threw my hands over my face. I probably looked like an idiot, but I couldn't bear to look any of these... these things at all. Whoever was in the doorway hadn't moved, hadn't lunged forward to slice me in half and tear out my insides like I expected. I could only hear the sound of their choked, uneven breathing. They sounded... female, less menacing, so I dared to peak through my hands.

There was a girl, who looked a little younger than me, standing quietly in the doorway. Her face was strangely disfigured, and her thin, unkempt hair was mostly hidden beneath the hood of a bright red sweater. I lowered my arms slowly, staring at this girl, who stared back in just as much fear as me. I ran my tongue over my horribly chapped lips, attempting to speak. But I choked on my own words.

'Mirrie?' the girl whispered.

The word was like a blade sliding across my sunburnt skin. How the hell did she know _my_ name? The girl's voice was faint, although friendly, and it definitely compensated for her creepy appearance. It was like she was struggling to talk, and to me nonetheless. Me, her clan's prisoner. My heart warmed in appreciation for her, which was very strange, as the girl could be no different from the rest. She was _one of them_. But I had been starved of human company, of compassion, for almost a week in this rotting, hazy prison cell – I couldn't help it. I emerged from my numb stupor that instant and I smiled. I regretted it though, as my cracked lips began to bleed.

'How did you know?' I choked out. My voice sounded terrible, despite being able to sing perfectly normally moments before.

The girl considered my question, and shrugged. I shook my head, and stood up slowly, several questions bubbling on my lips.

'W-What the hell is going on here?' I spat.

I was deathly afraid for my friend, Bernice again. We had decided to take a road trip, travelling all the way to Florida in America only to find out our flight to San Diego was cancelled due to "complications". So we decided to rent a van and hit the road. God knows how we ended up here.

The girl screwed up her face in confusion. 'Papa wanted... a-a woman...'

I began to pace, my shaking legs refusing to find an easy walking pattern. Fuck! What the hell do these people want with us? Papa wanted a woman? What the hell did that mean?

Without thinking, I stomped over to the girl and gripped her arms, attempting to scream my frustration into her. She was my only human (close to it) means of venting my resurfacing feelings. But the words I wanted to snarl at her wouldn't come out of my mouth. I paused, shoved her back and retreated to the corner, massaging my forehead. I didn't run for the door, as I had made that mistake already, and I don't live by the "freedom, or die trying" rule. I'm quite a coward, actually. I looked back up, fighting back the guilt, anguish and fear that was rising from within the dark reaches of my mind.

The girl hadn't moved, but her concentration seemed to be focused on something else. She looked scared, and that didn't help. Suddenly, I could hear what she was hearing. Uneven footsteps, lobbing down the hallway toward the room.

I bit my lip as a sickly, thin man slipped into the room, hunched by the weight of a strip of what appeared to be heavy looking road spikes draped around his shoulders. His skin was red and blistered with sunburn, clothes shabby and worn out, greying hair wild, but what made me scream was his disfigured face, lip rising up in a cleft, his jaw oddly angled into a permanent snarl.

'Shut it!' he barked at me, taking hold of the girl's arm. He beared his yellowing teeth as I fell silent. As I stared, I reluctantly remembered the night these people beaten and kidnapped Bernice and I, this savage was referred to as Lizard by one of the others. What the hell kind of name is that? Lizard.

'Ruby,' he hissed to the girl. She shrieked as she was yanked toward the door. 'Now get! Little slut, stop your messin' with us.'

As Ruby was abruptly pushed out of the room, I instantly regretted my actions to pass up such an easy shot at escape. I should have run. But now I'm trapped inside my cell with a disfigured, abusive cannibal.


	2. Encounter

**Notes:** This chapter didn't turn out how I expected it too, I've been pretty distracted for the past few days And I'm not the best action writer. In the future, I'll most probably be replacing this chapter, so watch out for that. c: _And a big thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter!_

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Hills Have Eyes or any of its characters and themes. But I do own Mirrie Ramshead.

~BeastFindsBeauty

* * *

_I have always had a very high tolerance for pain - typical pain the average human experiences daily. You know, a punch to the gut, the occasional broken bone or scraped knee. I never complained, or cried as I grew up. I guess I didn't know what it was until I was chosen as the rubber chew toy of a clan of mutated savages. Pain was just a small taste of their animal's mentality, and they definitely loved to afflict it. Anyone could figure that out._

Lizard rolled his shoulders back as he stared at me, his bones cracking menacingly. the way the spike strip was draped around his neck reminded me of those man-crushing pythons. I frowned as I stared at this man, brandishing his weapon in his disfigured hands as he advanced on me. Panic started to pulse through me.

'Hey! No, no, p-please,' My voice trembled as his accusing eyes speculated me, my posture and tone of voice. Obviously, tasting my fear and loving my level of reaction.

He laughed in response, three harsh barks, and dropped the spikes at my feet, grinning.

'Up! Ge' up, com'n!'

He had me cornered, with one firm arm pressed against the wall to my right, so I obeyed.

Rising to my full height, out of my ball of comfort, made me feel far too vulnerable. My legs trembled, threatening to give way. But before I could do anything else, Lizard closed the gap between us and gripped the side of my face, his nails digging into my sunburnt cheek. I winced, trying my hardest to pay no attention to him, staring into the empty space that filled "my room". It was the only thing to keep me from screaming.

'Bit pale,' he murmured as he lifted my dirty, blood smeared shirt over my stomach. I squirmed uncomfortably, and he growled, pressing his lower body against mine. He was damn strong. I winced as I noticed his thigh was jammed between my legs. I hated the closeness of this man, the overpowering smell of blood, sweat and gunpowder burned my nose.

'Why am I here?' I choked out.

'Wha'?'

'What the fuck do you want from me, fucker!'

He ignored my childish queries as I screamed at him and continued his examination of my body, feeling up the side of my thigh. It was extremely uncomfortable. God, what the fuck was he looking for? I swatted at his hand.

'Leave me _alone_!'

'... You stop ya' bullshit, Mirrie!'

I feel silent. This was all it took for me to submit to him - to whatever cruel act he decided to perform upon me. He knew my name too? Great. Now, was he gonna use the road spikes? A knife? Or maybe just his bare hands..?

I had been expecting him to try tear my body inside out, so nothing could have prepared me for when he ripped my shirt clean over my head, pulled my bra down and cupped my breasts, his hands digging into the sensitive white flesh.

His torn, fingerless gloves were dirty and blood smeared, his touch rough and unwelcome. As the shock of his approach wore off, I instinctively gathered my remaining strength and pushed him in the chest with both hands. To my surprise, he stumbled backwards. I hoped the rest of my self defense classes were enough to even the chances against him. But Lizard looked as livid as ever, and lobbed back over to me, snarling. I braced myself, ready to punch, kick, whatever I could do to get him away from me. As he gripped my forearm with one strong hand, I kneed him in the stomach. He barely reacted. Before I could hit him again, and inflict some real damage, he took a fistful of my hair and slammed by head against the wall. Guess I shouldn't have got so confident.

I was vaguely aware of the thick, hot blood dripping from the side of my head before my vision flickered, and finally faded.

...

- _[3rd person, "Lizard's POV"]_

_Mirrie was heavy, hanging limp over his shoulder, and her weight slowed Lizard's usual pace to a mere shuffle. This didn't bother him though, and as he stepped into the harsh sun-bleached village outside, he began to swing the unconscious girl from side to side. He had done this many times before, victims begging for his mercy as Lizard casually carried them off. This girl'd probably scream like a fucking raccoon if she were awake. It was just easier this way, although notably less enjoyable._

_Carrying Mirrie, Lizard made his way from the stinking butcher's shop to the house Big Mama usually skulked in. Mama was a beefy woman, with fists that could clobber over almost anything she swung them at. Lizard didn't her like, or the way she wore that fucking wig. But she liked kids, so he'd dump Mirrie in her care. She was getting too thin, too unhygienic for his liking.  
_

_Lizard swung open the door, and dumped the girl onto a large, dusty bed. She as looked dead as ever, her blood seeping into the white, floral linen. Fucking masterpiece._

_''Ay! Get here.'_

_Big Mama stirred in the next room, and from the way the couch creaked as her weight was lifted off it, it was obvious she had been watching the television again. Lazy bitch, Venus and Mercury were no where in sight. Mama lobbed into the room, and flinched at the figure on the bed._

_''The hell is thi', Lizard?'_

_'One Jupiter wan'ed. Just give 'er some clothes, or knock some fucking sense into 'er.'_

_Mama stared blankly at Lizard, and then back at the girl, who looked like she was starting to stir. She was a young woman, pale skin badly sunburnt in exposed places, unkempt wine red hair tied into a loose, messy bun. Her current clothes were dirty and grime smeared, the bra she wore threatened to bust loose. Mama saw this as an easy chance to take another "human child" under her wing, as she had done during the previous encounters with the families that traveled off road. Most of those children were slaughtered within the first few days, and some took their own lives._

_'Fine. Just get ou'.'_


End file.
